Blank Propaganda
by SquirrelISDead0304
Summary: When war is no longer good enough to abuse ones enemies, there's nothing like a little propaganda to spice things up. The result of whim and sheer boredom: a collection of random short stories guranteed to make the Varden and Empire hate each other further. There will be stories from every character's POV, Galby especially.
1. Apologies

**Author's Note: Because I am bored and have nothing better to do, a simple drabble of dribble to tickle the fancy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Galbatorix, Eragon, the Ra'zac, or any other characters that will be appearing in these pages.**

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**Apologies**

Galbatorix stared at himself in the mirror. His robes and flowing blue cloak were neat and colour coordinated. His hair was combed, and his beard neatly trimmed. The crown upon his head tilted just slightly to hint at his underlying desire to appear somewhat casual to the crowd of commoners outside.

_How do I look? _He asked Shruikan, he asked the dragon. Disturbed from his afternoon doze the black dragon fixed a groggy glacial eye on him. _You look dashing. Quite dashing. _

The king nodded, glance at himself once more in the full length mirror, before turning toward the door. _Please wait for me in the throne room. _

Passing down the corridor, he stopped. His favourite concubine Salvia was walking in his direction with a servant girl. Both curtsied when they were a few feet away. Salvia's distended stomach apparent beneath the thick bodice of her dress.

In an uncharacteristic display of adoration for the only woman who cared for, he wrapped his arm around her. While on his travels many years before he'd found her being sold as a slave on the black market, as the Riders had made slavery illegal. He'd bought her freedom, because she'd stolen his heart. One look into her dark onyx eyes had been all it had taken.

Just as he pulled away, her lips brushed his cheek, and his hand gently caressed her stomach. Soon they would have child, and he would have an heir to his kingdom, and perhaps he would sire a new order of Riders.

"Stay safe. I will return shortly."

He backed away from her, giving her a light smile, and he departed.

Rounding a corner, he found the Ra'zac staring rather hungrily at a servant. The stiffened before bowing as he approached. Breezing past them he tossed over his should, "Come."

Seconds later the decisive click of their metal soled boots fell into step behind them.

The Varden were camping outside his walls. He could see the tendrils of smoke from the distant fires as he scaled the city walls. They blamed him for the destruction of the Empire. An accusation without merit, but he was human so by default people would hate him. Had he been an elfin rider everyone would have loved him and no one would have stopped him from building his magnificent kingdom. Why? Because there was a double standard for humans elves. Elves could get away with shit and humans were mindless bodies, bumping into things as far as the rest of Alagaesia was concerned.

In the city, commoners, soldiers, nobles, and the Ra'zac gathered at the base of the wall to see what their king planned on doing to the enemy horde. On the opposite side a great army with its trebuchets, ballista, towers, and other siege equipment stirred, marching in a great mass of shining silver beacons toward the city's walls.

"I have," he amplified his voice with a short phrase in the Ancient Language. "After several years I have spent reading a thousand years of history and I now have the power to heal this land and save each and every person in this land today. I wish to offer my apologies to the world, and all the people who live in it. I will take a responsibility for all the problems in this world a hundred percent.

I would like to apologize to my fellow human beings; Slavery is all MY fault. I apologize, but I had this country to build and I couldn't ask the dwarves for help because I tried killing them all." The king froze, capturing the attention of friend and foe alike.

"Knurlan, Dwarves, I would like to start off by saying I love red sapphires, and that I also eat chicken. Now that we have found some common ground, I would like to say I apologize. I don't know why the Hell I wanted to conquer Tronjheim. It's a city with none of its own food sources, and built on a bunch of tunnels so it can someday cave-in on itself. A bridge had just been blown up, my wife to be died in childbirth, and I was drunk off my ass. I apologize, and I apologize for the clan I destroyed. And Urgals, I'm sorry I got you involved in that."

He paused taking a minute, as if to collect his thoughts, although he already knew what he was going to say. He'd been practicing this speech for months already.

I would like to apologize to the elves. I admit you do dance better than us humans and I also hate trash on the ground; now that we have found some common ground… but we humans, we get fired up. We're coming from a far away country. "Woo hoo, we get our own country! Yea! Wait a minute who the f*** is that guy? Who's that guy on the beach singing and dancing,! Oh hold up, hold up, he's smoking a pipe, he's probably high."

"No let him keep smoking. Then he won't mind if we take his entire country Idiot! Sorry," he winced.

"And Elves I apologize, for the way things went down, but taking the throne was throwing a party when the parents are out of town and the football team was doing crystal meth. We didn't mean to trash the place. Sorry! And I promise that from now I will plant ten thousand seedlings on the border of your forest every year. And I mean my God!" Galbatorix buried his head in his hands. "We took everything from you! We could have at least left you Palancar Valley! Hell I cleared out all the Urgals!" He fell silent, his mouth open in shock.

After a moment he shifted from his frozen stupor. No one was moving, everyone watching him, waiting, to see what he would say.

"Urgralgra, moi, apologetica? I don't know what the Hell we're fight so hard for Palancar Valley for anyways. Anyone here been to Palancar Valley? Palancar Valley is a Hellhole: dirt, rocks, grass, snow, dirt, Eragon, dirt, rocks, mud, come on! It's not like we were fighting for Illerea. Again elves, really sorry about Illerea."

And to the Dragon Riders, about The Forsworn and Vroenguard and The Fall- Fu**** that, that was your fault! I was chilling in a farmer's house when you guys came along and all Hell broke loose! However, I will admit, I overreacted."

Galbatorix raised his arms, reaching out to the crowds. "So to every race that is here today that I have jacked-up , I sincerely apologize for taking your land, for the abuse, for the torture, the wars, the slavery, the high taxes, and the loss of the dragons, and Ra'zac-" to turned to meet the hooded gazes of his assassins, "I apologize for Eragon."

"And I want every person who is a citizen or soldier of The Empire to on the count of three say, 'We're Galby's and we apologize.' One! Two! Three!"

A chorus of voices rang out from within the city walls and the entirety of the Varden was stunned.

"Oh Gods!" The king exclaimed, rubbing his stinging wet eyes. "That was beautiful. And anyone who isn't a soldier or citizen of The Empire should accept our apology, because you just saw how quickly we got organized."

With that he climbed down from the wall and returned to his palace, with the stunned but happily smiling Ra'zac in toe.

**The End**


	2. Propaganda

**Author's Note: Well I'm really bored, and I have no new fanfic to read. I'm beginning to experience Glint and Guile Deprivation. To understand why, read the fanfiction written by Anastasia Adagio. BELIEVE ME, You won't regret it. And part of this scene is form another fic I'm writing called Lying Game, but I adapted it for this fic here. XD**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Galbatorix, nor do I own the Ra'zac**

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**Propaganda**

With a wild cry the Ra'zac knocked to the ground by a wave of energy as the chandelier exploded with tremendous energy and shattered glass. The din silent compared to the shriek of surprise and fear as a white sword whistled past the shorter Ra'zac's face.

Horrified, the taller Ra'zac turned, to see her visibly trembling beneath her cloak.

"The Two of You WHAT?" The King shouted. He descended from his throne in a flurry of black cape._ "What happened?_" Galbatorix hissed. The threat was evident.

Then to he noticed the king's dark eyes flicker toward his sister standing some feet behind him. Instinctually, he glanced over-"Don't look at her! You answer me." His head was roughly jerked back into place by an invisible force.

Worming through the fear, in his mind he searched for his voice and the memories of the event that had enraged the king. Truthfully, he couldn't even remember what he'd said that had put them in their current situation, let alone what happened two weeks before. A squeak, followed by a whimper cut through the silence. He was taking too long.

His blood boiled at the sound as a cold dread turned his blood cold. _What was the king doing to her? Oh gods….what happened? Two weeks ago? Carvahall-shit!_

"I- we-failed," his voice shook. The king's obsidian eyes narrowed, boring into his the way no other human eyes possibly could. "It wasn't our fault. We did not perpetrate the violence. The conflict wasss initiated by the villagersss." He would have stepped back, he would have rushed to his sister, but he couldn't move. He was completely at the king's mercy and any harm that further befell sister was going to be the result of what he said or didn't say.

"We ssset up camp not far the village and sent only six soldiersss, in pairs of two, into the village at any one time to ask questionsss. Beside ourselves. We were constantly trolling the village in search of information or the boy. We were told the boy was on a hunting trip, and no one knew anything about Eragon. Then after two daysss our camp was attacked by the villagersss and the boy was with them, leading the charge. We retaliated to defend ourselves. Only to defend ourselves, and not beyond forgiveness we withdrew before there were any casualtiesss, and told them and the boy that all we wanted was information. We were willing to leave without ssspilling blood if they gave us that we needed to know. They refusssed, and we had no choice then, but to become forceful. Yet even then we were not unduly so."

He took a breath. He had not heard a sound save for his own voice and the pounding of blood in his ears. Was his sister okay? What had the king done to make her whimper in the first place? She never made noises like that. Ever. Terrified by the stifling silence and weighty glare of the king he continued. The sooner he finished his tale the better.

"A villager came to us and helped us infiltrate the village, guiding us to the boy's temporary nessst. We sssnuck into the house, and into the boy'sss room, with a few of our men to apprehend him and keep the othersss in the housssehold form hindering us. He was not asleep alone, and it was by luck that the head male of the nest came to his aid, helping him essscape. But he did sssteal away his mate, and having obssserved from afar, how they interacted with one another, we are certain he will come to us to get her. We will catch the boy." _Now please let my sister go!_

A silence fell between them as Galbatorix glared at him, mulling over the events that had led to Carvahall's destruction. Slowly the king withdrew, before turning his back on them and crossing the throne room. Only when the king had reached the window did the Ra'zac hear a thud behind him, before stumbling as the magic binding him place released him.

Turning, his sister was slowly rising to her hands and knees. In a heartbeat he was by her side, lifting her up. She leaned against him, mutely watching the king with dim eyes. Pulling her close he held her to him as if he could shield her from whatever pain she was feeling. He rested is beak on the top of her head at an angle that allowed him to keep an eye on the king.

Galbatorix, was reclining casually against the side of the window frame, the fingers of his right hand tapping rapidly against the sill. For a long time they stood no one moving, until the finger tapping stopped, abruptly replaced by a fit of laughter. Both Ra'zac stiffened and keeping a firm grip on his sister's hand the taller Ra'zac turned to face whatever new threat they were to be faced with. But the king ignored them, bending over the window sill, he was laughing so hard.

Slowly the laugh faded into his normal chuckle broken only by a needed breath of air.

Finally he turned, his face brightened by a smile that looked innocuously genuine. Immediately the Ra'zac's hackles raised and a hiss threatened to slide from his mouth. No way in Hell was he going to trust that look.

"I have a brilliant plan! Oh gods, it's PERFECT!" The king burst into another fit of laughter that he struggled to stifle.

"Oh my, oh my, oh my. I know how to end this war before it escalates further. The two of you have given me an excellent idea- I will send for a healer to tend to you," he said seriously before his face cracked into a smile once more. The Ra'zac glared and an indiscernible sound softly emanated from his sister's throat. Gently he squeezed her hand and she leaned against his back.

"Oh goodness this is perfect." The king with bounce in his step flounced to his throne and perched in the cushioned chair with excited dark eyes.

"I think this is a job the two of you will actually enjoy. It seems to me that the Varden hates the Empire and the more I send siege equipment and soldiers, the more they hate me. That's because they don't get it. I want you to take notes." He crooked his finger at the taller Ra'zac.

The Ra'zac's heart had gone to his throat the moment the king's finger pointed at him. Hastily, he pulled away from his sister, only to have his heart lurch as the whispered word, "Brother," followed him.

Grabbing a stack of papers, a hard bound book to write on, an inkwell, and a quill, he settled on the floor prepared to take notes. His sister plopped down next to him, her eyes still dim and clouded.

Once the quill was ink laden and his eyes looked up, Galbatorix began. "Instead of sending siege equipments and soldiers let's try this: Send everyone in the Varden propaganda. And before the fighting escalates; 'You want to go to war? You want a piece of us? Fine. Fine. But before you I want you to understand us a little bit better.'"

The pen hurriedly scribbled across the paper, as the king continued. "HI! I'm the Empire. I discovered the true name of the Ancient Language for fun,"-The Ra'zac stiffened- "I have created a spell that can burn the entirety of Du Weldenvarden is zero to eight seconds, because, phht!" He shrugged. "I was Bored! Piss me off and see what I do! And I may feel bad about it later! Ask the Ra'zac. But before I feel bad, I'm going to jack you up! And then I'm going to send you food! BECAUSE I'M GALBATORIX and I'm Schizophrenic! Don't mess with a nation that needs medication!"

Disturbed and amused at the same time, the Ra'zac's pen scribbled the word 'schizophrenic,' across the page.

"Now I want you to take your sister to see a healer, and I want you to find someone downstairs, and have them copy fifty thousand of those into empirical posters and after that I want the two of you to fly to the Varden and dump them on the Rebels' heads."

Jumping up the taller Ra'zac pulled his sister to her feet, and they both bowed to the king as respectfully as they did to their parents. In a flurry he returned the book, quill, and inkwell to their proper places, before leading his sister from the throne room.

The second the door closed, the short Ra'zac turned and buried her head into her brother's chest, trembling as she did so. The paper fell unheeded to the floor as he held her. Neither of them noticed or cared both had their hoods down.

"It'll be all right. I promise. It will be all right," he clucked softly. He felt her fingers dig into his chest, and whimper rose from the depths of the dark fabric and crinkled insignia. "Ssshhh, your brother has a plan." He clicked conspiratorially. Her head rose and she looked at him with a mixture of curiosity, pain, and relief.

"When we go to deliver the propaganda, we're going to join the Varden."

His words were met a shocked and disbelieving gasp. "Brother…."

He smiled encouragingly before tugging her hood over her head. He bent to pick up the paper, pulling up his own hood as he did so. Rising he took her hand. "Let's follow Gabby's orders for the time being." He whispered.

His sister made and amused sound, letting herself be tugged away.


	3. Spare Parts

**Author's Note: I need help. My Muse is on fire again. And I'm addicted to coffee, hopefully the Ra'zac can forgive me as they wind up the central characters of yet another crack fic. I do not own them.**

**I would like it be known that these are short stories and most of them will have open endings. If someone wishes to steal a particular scene or add on to any of these stories feel free to do so. All I ask is that you PM me first, and let me know which one it is.**

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**Spare Parts**

Eragon stared in wonder at the statues adorning the dwarven temple. He followed the priest through the hallowed halls. The priest who'd introduced himself as Gannel lead him to a statue of a nude male bent over a dwarf sized lump of grey flint caressing the dark stone with a loving finger.

"This is Helzvog," the priest whispered adoringly. "He holds our hearts, for he was one who thought the land should be vanquished after the giants were vanquished. The other gods stood against him, fearing that these new people would challenge their power the way the giants did. But he ignored them, and in secret formed the first dwarf from the root of the mountain."

Gannel's voiced dropped and he cast Eragon a small frown. "Orik has discussed our rites with you?"

"Some."

"Then know we must be buried in stone, else our spirits will never join Helzvog in his hall. We are not of earth, air, or fire, but of stone. As an Ingeitum, it is your responsibility to assure a proper resting place for any dwarf who may die in your company. If you fail- in absence of enemies or injuries- Hrothgar will banish you, and no dwarf will acknowledge your presence until after your death." He straightened his shoulders, staring hard at Eragon. "You have much to learn, yet uphold the customs I have out lined today and you will do fine."

"I won't forget," Eragon promised. Satisfied the priest started to lead him from the temple.

"Hang on, how were the other races created? The Elves and the Urgals, Humans, and Dragons: where do they come from?

The priest froze before turning to look at him. "Well, Guntera loved trees, and so he made acorns fall from the trees, and from the seeds, sprung the first elves to be keepers of the trees and to rule all other races. Urur and Morgothal combined their love of fire and wind to create dragons, as rulers of the skies. Sindri brought Urgals from the soil of mountain caves to be a mockery of dwarves and hunters of the forests. As a result there have been many wars between them and the elves, and us as well. Kilf spent many nights by moonlit pools, and she adored the white reflection upon the dark water surface so much. One night she fashioned from obsidian, volcanic glass, from the bottom of the ocean and created a nocturnal people to adore the moon as much as she did, and so the Ra'zac were created. Because obsidian was too dense to allow them to swim, she fashioned them bat like wings to carry them safely over any body of water. And that's how the first races came to be."

"Well wait a minute, what about humans? Who created them?"

"Humans were created by committee."

"What?"

"Um, well…" Gannel trailed off, eyes darting. "The gods had finished creating life and they bserved many wars taking place between the races. They got together and decied they should create a race to be the buffer between the other people.

"A race that would be easily pushed over, but still a challenge to govern. And the gods saw that they had a lot spare parts lying around sssooooo… they said 'What the Hell,' and threw them all together. So you're nothing but a bunch of leftovers with the mental stability of a suicidal lemming, but it's ok because you're a dwarf now -admittedly a fairly tall one- so welcome to Ingeitum."

The priest smiled, straining to clap Eragon on the back. "Oh yes, I forgot to mention," the priest said leading Eragon toward the exit, "when adopted into a clan it is traditional that you be given a dwarven name, so there was a committee meeting and you are now "Filion Bitus n'Piecus."

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**I am sorry if this isn't funny, my original idea was MA and I would not have been able to upload it. Hopefully there will be a better story coming soon.**


	4. A Matter of Faith

**Author's Note: So I'm going to Michigan in a few days and I'm trying to get stuff done. There are chapters I have promised people and now, I'm in a hurry to get them typed. Hopefully, a new chapter of Lying Game will be up soon. And I'm reaching for the stars, trying to put together a Dwarf chapter for How to Evade a Hunting Ra'zac. So yeah. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon or Gannel; yes more dwarf religion jokes. Next chapter will hopefully be something different.**

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**A Matter of Faith**

After many months of training with the elves Eragon once again found himself in the dwarven city Tarnag. He had feasted with Orik that afternoon, and now as he wandered the city with a stuffed distended stomach, the sky was painted with the purple and orange glows that heralded the twilight.

The temple where he'd been first introduced to the dwarven gods stood, with its steps and columns jutting out of the rocky mountain side. The majority of the temple was within the mountain itself, the most important of the gods in the very back of the cavernous hall, and the lesser deities closer to the entrance.

Pausing, Eragon studied the thick oaken doors, before deciding to stroll inside. He had questions he wished to discuss with the priests. He gently pushed the doors open before silently slipping into the hall of statues.

As luck would have it, Gannel the priest who'd given him a tour of the temple before was in the hall speaking to a fellow priest. They were pouring over a stack of parchment discussing whatever text it was they were reading. Eragon paused a short distance away, waiting to be recognized.

"We'll continue this tomorrow," Gannel final stated, and after a short but respectful bow the other priest bustled away.

"Filion Bitus n'Piecus," Brother bits an' pieces, "what a pleasure to see you once more. How was your stay among the elves?" While the question was polite, Eragon heard a slight edge in the priest's voice when he mentioned the elves.

Eragon was aware of the fact that the elves and dwarves had very different religious views and as a result there was tension between the two groups. "The elves are gracious hosts, and I learned many things from, but that's partially why I'm here. There were some things they said and I'm confused."

"What is it that troubles you?" The priest asked concerned.

"I feel that I have lost my religion, and now I am questioning my faith, because I don't know who is right or who is wrong." Eragon groaned frustrated.

"Son, I have two things to say to you. First, it matters not who is right or who is wrong- but in this we are not mistaken- because a person needs to believe in something, even if it's wrong, because without belief one can easily be manipulated by their doubts. And second, the elves are under the impression that seeing is believing, but in reality believing is seeing." The dwarf gazed up at him sternly. "You understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes."

The dwarf allowed himself a tight smile, "Now then I wish to hear exactly what is troubling you."

"Well… I'm not sure where to start…" Eragon scratched his head. "When you told me about the gods the first time I was here you spoke of how coral is a living stone, but during my stay in Ellesmera I was told that coral is in fact produced by tiny creatures. I meditated and found this to be true. And then we were discussing Guntera, King of the Gods, and I was told that he controls the solices, but the elves believe the world in which Alageasia resides is round and rotates around the sun."

"And I would love,I would love to have the faith that you do, but … I have thoughts, and they're kind of screwing up the whole faith-thing. I would like to believe that the world was made by the bones of giants opposed to rising out of the ocean on its own accord. The elves are very meticulous record keepers; if giants had existed they would have written records somewhere-"

"Come, come with me," the dwarf took him by the hand and began leading him down the hall.

"So you want to believe? Then the solution is quite simple and I knowjust how to prove to you that the world was made by the bones of giants." The priest said nothing else, leaving Eragon to ponder his words as he was dragged up several flights of stairs and along many corridors.

Finally they came to a large door, inlaid with rubies and pearls. Still holding his hand in a strong grip, the priest pushed open the door and dragged Eragon inside.

Only then did the priest let him go, as Eragon gaped at the sight before him.

A huge skull, blackened by time was mounted on the wall, leering at him with long curved fangs and gaping eye sockets. The priest stood beneath the behemoth head with an air of smugness. "See that?"

Eragon nodded stiffly.

"Fossil," the priest pointed.

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**Author's Note: Granted it wasn't as funny as the last few, but there is one more Gannel story and I think it will make up for this one. It will be up soon, and I will divert my attention soley to Lying Game.**


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